


as i lay my head down

by lincesque



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Life on Mars AU, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-14
Updated: 2012-12-14
Packaged: 2017-11-21 03:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/592716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincesque/pseuds/lincesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q sleeps and dreams and lives two lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as i lay my head down

Q sleeps.  
  
When he opens his eyes, the soft sunlight is streaming through the tiny gap in the curtains, spilling over the king sized bed he lies in. Q lies sprawled on his back with half the blankets tucked carefully up to his chin.  
  
James is a warm presence against his side, glasses perched on his nose and reading through what’s probably a casefile. They’ve talked about James’ habit of bringing work home but it’s a battle that Q never quite sees himself winning.  
  
When he sees that Q is awake, James obediently puts the folder away, on top of the dresser and slides off his glasses, placing them on top. He does it all without prompting. There’s a smile crinkling the edges of his eyes and his face is open, gaze fond.  
  
"Good morning, love," James murmurs and leans over to kiss him, slow and lazy. He runs one hand up through the mop of dark curls on Q’s head, mussed and messy from sleep.  
  
Q's heart stutters as it always does at this show of love and trust and he lets his own hand curl around James' bare shoulder as he returns the kiss, soft and sweet. "Good morning," he breathes and doesn't think about why his voice wavers.  
  
James laughs softly and scratches his fingernails against Q’s scalp, breathing warm and shallow over Q’s shoulder before his tongue swipes a rough wet stripe up Q’s neck, leaving sensitive skin prickling in its wake.  
  
Q bites down on a whimper and the next soft exhalation is swallowed by James when he stretches up to kiss Q again, deeper, rougher this time, fingers of both his hands skimming down Q’s sides, feathering into the groove of narrow hipbones and then even lower.  
  
“Such a lovely morning,” James whispers against Q’s lips, blue eyes dark, pupils almost swallowed by lust and love and all those other emotions burning between them.  
  
“Not quite yet,” Q answers, breathless, lips swollen, red and body arching underneath James’ gentle but implacable weight pinning him against the blue silk sheets. Q pulls him down with a hand threaded through the short hair on James’ nape and their next kiss is slow and heavy and absolutely perfect.  
  
“But it will be.”  
  
*  
  
Q sleeps.  
  
The phone always on his bedside table wakes him with its emergency ringtone and he blinks open bleary eyes.  
  
“Five minutes,” a curt voice tells him before the line goes dead abruptly.  
  
Q listens to nothing for a moment, phone still pressed against his ear, before he drops it back onto the table, rubbing his other hand over his eyes.  
  
It's 5:49am and the sky is still a depressed spread of dark grey. The sun won't peek out from behind the horizon for another half hour yet and even the normally cheerful, chirping birds sound muted today.  
  
Q drags himself out of bed, a tiny single frame with an equally tiny mattress, and stumbles towards his haphazard pile of clothes in the clean laundry basket. He dresses with clumsy hands and sleep slowed limbs and doesn't bother to run more than his fingers through his hair in the bathroom after he brushes his teeth and splashes a handful of water over his face.  
  
He reads the accompanying emergency text while he pulls on his shoes at the door. There's an emergency situation at MI6 involving volatile terrorist organisations, two missing nuclear missiles and 007. Q’s not even surprised.  
  
He activates his electronic safety measures, locks his front door and hurries down the path to the sidewalk and the idling car parked on the curb. It’s a standard generic MI6 issue, black with tinted windows. The driver nods politely and opens the back passenger door.  
  
Q slides in and finds Tanner already in the backseat, a crinkle of worry creasing his brow and a manila folder stamped 'top secret' in his lap. As soon as Q’s door closes, the car starts the fifteen minute drive to MI6 and Q accepts the open folder Tanner offers.  
  
He takes one moment, vision blurring between the ID photo of 007 and the memory of the James from his dreams, to collect himself.  
  
When he opens his eyes, he’s Q, the youngest Quartermaster that MI6 has ever had.  
  
“What’s the current situation?” Q asks, voice steady and betraying no emotion at all, ready to do whatever it takes to protect his country.  
  
*  
  
Q sleeps and finds that he cannot differentiate between his reality and his dreams any longer.

He wonders, as he watches the line between them blur and smudge and smear, if he really even cares at all.


End file.
